


Have You Seen the Stars Tonite?

by Musyc



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Coda, Community: dhr_advent, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gardens, HP: EWE, Marriage Proposal, Outdoor Sex, Returning Home, Romance, Small Towns, Winter, cottage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 01:56:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2833925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musyc/pseuds/Musyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holiday celebrations in the village of Faith-In-Hart. Draco has something special planned for Hermione. If he can get it right, it will be perfect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Have You Seen the Stars Tonite?

Even with the temperature hovering below freezing and the smell of snow in the crisp December air, Hermione was outside. Draco, leaning against the door frame of their cottage with his jumper's collar pulled up high around his neck, watched her as she flitted through the garden, the tails of her long scarf dancing at her hips as she looked over the flowerbeds. She'd spent a couple of weeks at the end of autumn winterizing the garden with protective coverings over the flowers and a dozen charms on top of that. Draco suspected, if it wouldn't have been too hard to explain to the residents of the village, she would have turned the entire garden into a tropical sanctuary with charms and spells. Hermione was careful not to be too obvious with her magic, though, even when it came to her beloved ivy-covered cottage and walled garden. They had the second largest roses in the village, with a trophy cup to prove it, but no more than that. Nothing to draw too much attention, Hermione often said.

Draco wondered how she could be even slightly warm out there but he knew better than to tell her to come in. She'd leave her flowers when she was good and ready, not a moment before. It was her place and he knew better than to interfere. He supposed he couldn't entirely fault her for it. He understood how important it could be to have a place that no one could take away and over which no one else could set rules. He'd lived with someone else's restrictions for long enough; he understood how precious it was to live under no one's rules but his own. Hermione deserved that as much as he did and he wouldn't take her enjoyment of her garden away from her.

He did hope she'd come in before she was shivering entirely. They'd never bothered to update the cottage after he'd purchased it for her and without any source of heat except the fireplaces even magic could only do so much to warm her up. Shaking his head with fond amusement, he put the kettle on and laid out a mug and Hermione's favorite tea so she could have a cup as soon as she came inside.

He settled into the leather chair at his desk, tucked into one corner of the sitting room, and turned the wick of the oil hurricane lamp to throw a brighter light over his papers. Several holiday cards still needed responses - Potter and the Weaselette, five or six dozen other Weasleys, Blaise and Pansy, the Greengrass sisters, Doreen in Magical Creatures, and the blokes back at the residence house - and even more invitations needed considered. Gwen and Edie at the tea shop wanted them to come by for an eggnog tasting night, with promises that only two recipes had Edie's special healthy touches; Bets Brimble had finally accepted Nigel 'Old Man' Puckett's plaintive offers of jam and wedding proposals and there was an engagement party planned.

Draco leaned back in his chair, sipping thick dark cocoa from a heavy, hand-made mug he'd bought at the indoor market. In the whirlwind of holiday parties and celebrations the residents of Faith-in-Hart had planned, there was one event that he was determined not to miss. Young Jilly Millburne had completed her fellowship and was putting on a concert with her medieval music group. The Holt and Heeth Medievalist Musicians had a rousing evening planned with music of several centuries, with modern - at least, slightly more modern than their usual - carols and holiday songs included as a special bonus, and Draco was looking forward to seeing how Jilly managed to handle the giant contrabass recorder she played. It was easily a foot taller than she was.

He heard movement in the kitchen, followed by the clink of a spoon in a tea mug, and he smiled as he tossed Jilly's invitation on top of the stack. "Can you feel your feet?" he asked over his shoulder.

"I can, thank you very much." Hermione leaned over the back of his chair and kissed the top of his head. "My nose is cold, though. Feel!"

Draco failed to stifle a yelp when Hermione nuzzled behind his ear. It felt like she'd rubbed an ice cube on his skin. Growling in mock annoyance, he reached around to drag her into his lap. Only a little tea splashed onto the floor and he ignored it as he tickled Hermione mercilessly. She shrieked, holding her mug well away from both of them, and kicked her feet in the air. "Malfoy, you prat!"

"So they tell me," he said before relenting and taking her mug from her to set it on the desk. He kissed the tip of her nose and crossed his eyes when she made a face at him. "I was beginning to wonder if I'd need to haul you out of the garden with a _Levicorpus_ ," he said. "If you'd stayed out there much longer we'd miss the caroling. Not that this would be that much of a loss for me, you understand."

Hermione narrowed her eyes and poked him in the chest. "After all the work it took for me to teach you some of those songs? I don't think so, Draco Malfoy. We're going and you're going to sing. You have a gorgeous voice. You should have been in the choir at school."

"Well, I was busy. Pushing Hufflepuffs over, ordering Crabbe and Goyle around, being stalked by you--"

"It wasn't _stalking_."

"Being _stalked_ by you and your cronies. If I'd been in the choir, I'd have been constantly under attack by hordes of desperate, fawning girls and really, who has that kind of ti--ow." He rubbed his chest where she'd poked him extra hard, her nails jabbing through his jumper. Grinning, he kissed her cheek. "All right, all right. Same old argument, nobody wins. Never you mind, though. I promised I'd make this trip to the village special. Drink your tea and get ready. We have to meet Althea at the hotel in twenty minutes."

* * *

Hermione tucked her arm through Draco's and hummed as they walked through the village, heading back to the cottage after an evening spent caroling up and down the high street. She leaned her head on his shoulder. "It was nice to see everyone again," she said. 

"Even Freeze?"

She chuckled, tugging at his sleeve. Without needing to ask what she wanted, Draco pulled her into a hug and continued to walk with his arm around her shoulders. Hermione slipped her arm around his waist under his thick wool coat. "Even Freeze," she said. "He's going to be a very responsible young man once he finishes his course. When we were having tea at Gwen's shop, he told me all about the cars he's been working on. And he managed to wait a whole five minutes before asking if we brought the Phantom with us."

Draco tipped his head back and laughed. "I'll expect to see him outside the gate at dawn tomorrow, then? Wrenches and oil rags in hand."

"If he waits for dawn. I think Jilly's sisterly glare was the only thing preventing him from begging to go to the cottage without us."

They reached their cottage and locked the gate behind them. Draco went ahead to open the door while Hermione patted the Phantom's hood gently. "One day," she said to it. "One day, I'll get to drive you."

"I heard that," Draco said. He tugged one of her curls as she passed him. "You're never driving my car. We've had this conversation."

Hermione made a face. "One day," she said again, her nose high in the air. She stripped out of her coat and scarf, tossing them to Draco to hang on the hooks behind the door. She plucked her wand out of her skirt pocket and lit the lamps and fireplace with a swirl of her wrist. "Althea asked me again why we haven't modernized the cottage," she said as she took a few dancing steps into the kitchen to put on the kettle. "Seems that 'we like it this way' isn't entirely convincing."

"She'll have to accept that. We're hardly able to tell everyone that we're magical people, wands and everything, and we don't need electriciwhatsit."

"Electricity. Malfoy, I know very well you're capable of saying that word."

She shook her head at Draco stretched out on the sofa, his boots and socks abandoned on the floor beside him. He grinned at her as he tucked his hands behind his head. "I am, yes. But it entertains you to get to correct me. It's a small gift for the holidays, but what kind of man would I be if I ignored the small things that make you happy?"

Hermione pretended to contemplate that for a moment. "True enough." She bounced across the room and crawled atop Draco, rucking up her skirt to press her knees to his hips. She lowered enough to feel her breath bouncing off his lips when she spoke. "I can think of another small gift you can give me."

Draco arched one brow. "Granger, if you call it _small_ , I'm never giving it to you again."

She snickered, then tipped her head to kiss the underside of his jaw. "I would never say that. No, Mister Malfoy, there are several words I could use to describe that particular gift and 'small' is not one of them." She sat up, dragging her hands down Draco's chest to hook in his belt. "Let's start with--"

"Oh, good, you're finally home. I've been trying to call you for an hour."

Hermione whipped around, saved from falling off the sofa only by Draco's quick reflexes, and glared into the fireplace where Harry's head floated through green flames. "Harry James _Potter_!"

He winced. "Sorry. Sorry, Hermione. Sorry, er. Malfoy. Interrupting. Obviously. But...." He ruffled his fringe and shrugged, his shoulders appearing above the smoldering logs. "Not that I wanted to break in on this particular moment but it couldn't wait. Like I said, I've been trying for an hour but your fire wasn't burning and I guess you left your mobile on silent or something."

As Harry babbled, Hermione gave Draco an apologetic glance before sliding off him to perch on the edge of the sofa by his stomach. She smoothed her skirt down, a slight shiver running through her as Draco slipped his hand beneath her jumper to draw tiny circles on the small of her back. "Behave," she murmured to him.

She snapped her fingers to catch Harry's attention. "What do you want? I have something I'd like to get back to doing."

"Someone, you mean." Harry smirked at Draco's soft growl, then gave Hermione a pleading look. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't an emergency. We need you at the office. There's a problem. We really need you here to deal with it. There's a couple of files missing and-and-and. It's a mess."

Hermione swore under her breath. "All right, all right. I'll be there in a few minutes."

Harry gave her a cheery wave and disappeared from the fire. Sighing, Hermione turned to Draco, whose brows were knotted in frustration. "I know," she said, leaning over him for a kiss. "I'm sorry. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"One of these days we're going to have a nice holiday in this cottage without Potter interrupting," Draco said, his voice full of resignation. "And the day after that, I'll be in hospital with a heart attack from the shock."

"Like you'd go to hospital," she said, patting his chest. "You'd have a flock of Healers coming to you and getting paid triple for the private attention."

"True."

She kissed him again, murmuring apologies, then went to get her coat. Harry was her best friend, but he owed her for this. He owed her _big_.

* * *

"You owe me, Malfoy. You owe me _big_. Like...." Harry waved his arms wildly, gesturing at the cottage, the garden, and the sky in one great swoop. "Like World Cup, top box, meet the players, big."

Draco rolled his eyes, pushed off the wall of the cottage, and dipped into his coat pocket. He drew out a thick envelope and held it in front of Harry's face. "You missed this year. But next time around? Top box, two tickets," he said slowly. "Meet and greet with the players, _both_ teams. And dinner for two at Quenelle's, full seven courses. Have the steak. The cows practically volunteer, the chef's that good."

Harry stared at him, green eyes nearly as round as the glass perched on his nose. "Shit, I was joking."

Draco waved the envelope. "I'm not."

"You don't even know who's playing. Or where it's going to be! The next match isn't until 2018!"

"Doesn't matter." Draco shrugged and stuffed the envelope into the neck of Harry's jumper, since he appeared to be too shocked to take it. "Look, Potter. I won't discuss my connections here, but trust me. You're going to the next World Cup. Take the Weaselette, have a grand time. But if you decide to get a hotel and catch a Snitch yourself, you're paying for that. I won't contribute to gingery shags."

He was rather satisfied with the two-fingered gesture and muttered insult Harry threw his direction, but even more satisfied when Harry took the envelope and peered gleefully at the contents. Draco's vaults had taken a hit for those tickets and meetings but it was worth it to him. He'd have paid anything to get this evening in order.

He looked around the garden, marking items on his fingers. A square wrought-iron gazebo, tall as the cottage and draped in enough fabric to wrap the whole of Ireland, dark red and deep gold, forest-shadow green and gleaming silver, open to the night sky and the clouds that drifted over the moon and stars, leaving them covered. Dozens of candles, from pillars a hand-span wide to slender tapers a meter long, tea lights floating in silver bowls of clear water and carved votives in glass globes that dangled from the iron struts and braces of the gazebo. Table and chairs, draped in more cloth, winter-white; the garden bench, enlarged and padded and scattered with the pillows Hermione used when she read outside. Over everything, more charms and magic than he'd used in his life, keeping the garden warm and his work hidden from any prying eyes. Only someone standing in the garden could see the efforts he'd put in to make the evening perfect. It all looked perfect. The only thing missing was Hermione.

He checked his pocketwatch and hissed when he realized how little time they had. "Potter," he snapped. "Bugger off. Less than ten minutes before Granger realizes she's on a Niffler hunt and leaves the Ministry to stomp your arse into paste."

"This was your idea. _You_ convinced me to lie to her. If she tries to stomp me, I'm selling you out." Harry wrapped a long, inexpertly knitted scarf around his throat and shoved a flat cap over his messy hair. He took one more look around the garden. "Good luck, Malfoy," he muttered.

Draco escorted him through the cottage to the gate. They exchanged a couple of final insults and farewells before Harry checked that the street was empty and Disapparated. Draco exhaled sharply, running both hands through his hair. "Don't need luck," he mumbled to himself. "I need her."

* * *

"Ugh. Malfoy, you would not believe the mess back at the office." Hermione stormed into the cottage, her scarf and coat flung heedlessly across the sofa. "Files everywhere, some sort of Anti-Alphabet jinx. I don't even know what happened, but it took me over an hour to get everything sorted. I'm sorry it took so long. Can we get back to what we were doing?"

She turned around, then turned around again, realizing finally that Draco wasn't in the room. She checked the kitchen, the bedroom they shared upstairs, the second bedroom she'd turned into a combination library and study, even both bathrooms. He wasn't in the cottage at all. Her brows knotted and she glanced out a window overlooking the garden, wondering if he'd stepped outside.

Her view of her flowers and trees was obscured by a tall iron structure covered in fabric. Hermione stared at it blankly for several heartbeats. She couldn't think, at first, where it had come from, then she gasped, her hand covering her mouth. "Draco, you didn't," she whispered.

She put the pieces together as she hurried down the stairs. Harry's stammered and babbling explanation of why he needed her at the office. A minor jinx that left a mess but didn't actually cause any troubles. The receptionist's efforts to keep her in the office. Harry's mysteriously long trip to the loo. It had all been excuses to get her away from the cottage.

Hermione almost flew out the door and into the garden, barely feeling the cold air. Candles were all over, leaving a glow surrounding the tall gazebo and the dinner for two set up on a table in the center. As she stepped inside, she let out an involuntary sigh of pleasure at the warmth in the gazebo. Draco had thought of everything. It was perfect.

"Draco?" she called, expecting him to remove a Disillusionment charm and step out of the shadows with a smile. Instead she heard a quiet sound from one corner. Hermione closed her eyes and pressed her lips together to stifle a laugh. She knew that sound. She knew it very well. She heard it every night as she slept beside Draco.

He was asleep. And he was snoring.

She slipped past the table, holding her breath, and eased onto the edge of the enlarged bench, careful not to disturb Draco. He'd changed into formal robes, black with silver dragons embroidered in a thick band on the cuffs, hem, and collar. One arm was thrown across the bench, his fingers curled as if he were holding her hand in his sleep. The other rested over his stomach and seemed oddly cupped. Hermione gently lifted his fingers to see what he was hiding.

Beneath his hand was a small velvet box. Hermione sucked in a breath with a sharp whistle. Draco startled, his fingers locking on hers, and she snapped her head up to meet his eyes.

"Shit," he muttered, his voice thick and drowsy. "Fell 'sleep?"

Hermione smiled. "My fault," she said. Leaning over him, she kissed his forehead and the corner of his eye. "I couldn't leave the office without cleaning everything up. Tell Harry his ruse was a little too effective."

"Tell Harry t'fuck off," Draco mumbled. He sat up, rubbing his eyes and shoving his hair into place. Hermione left him to it. The waking-up process of the Draco Malfoy wasn't one to be disturbed. She patted his leg and went to admire the candles scattered around them. The gazebo was scented with something spicy and musky, and she smiled to herself when she spotted the thick incense stick tucked into a holder. It was the same scent she'd noticed the first time they visited this village. She'd been right; Draco liked it.

He cleared his throat and she turned around, ready to tease him for falling asleep on her, but he was on one knee. She staggered, catching the table to keep from tripping, and stared down at him. She could feel her eyelids aching from how wide they were. Her throat went dry. A surprise holiday dinner, she'd thought, a nice Christmas gift for her. But this....

He was on one knee, his hands were up, and he was holding open that black velvet box, a silver ring inside it. Even at a distance, she could tell the ring was centuries old, and her heart fluttered. Draco looked up at her, his eyes still droopy from sleep. "I, er," he started, then coughed quietly. He shook his head and tried again. "I promised you a special night. Didn't get everything entirely right, I suppose. You weren't meant to be gone that long and I wanted stars overhead instead of clouds, but I think I got most of it."

Hermione approached him slowly as he talked. When she was within reach, she could tell that he was shaking, his fingers clenched on the box to halt their quivering and his fringe dancing against his forehead as he trembled. He took a deep breath. "Granger. Hermione. I can't remember the speech I was going to make. Just looking at you makes me forget all the words I wanted to say. So, er. So there's this, then. I love you. I loved you a few years ago and I still loved you when we weren't together and I love you even more now. I can't imagine life without you. Will you--"

"Yes!" She pounced on him, knocking him to the ground, and slithered atop him to kiss him over and over again. She couldn't tell if she was laughing or crying or both at once and it didn't matter. She lifted her head and smiled down at Draco, her heart pounding so hard she was sure he could hear it. "Yes, Draco. Then and still and now, yes."

* * *

He'd expected the proposal to be more involved, certainly to take longer, but then Hermione had jumped on him, shouted 'yes', and in between then and now they'd somehow ended up on the padded bench and their clothes had ended up scattered around them. He was far too busy to wonder any more about it. Hermione lay under him, her skin gleaming in the candlelight, her hair wild as a storm. Draco kissed her hand atop her stomach. The ancient silver ring on her finger was the only thing she was wearing beyond her smile.

He kissed her hips, her thighs, the slender hollow behind her knee. He drifted upwards, over her stomach and the arch of her ribs, between her breasts and along her collar bones. Hermione bent her legs up as he settled between them and pressed close to her. She was hot and wet for him, slicking his cock as he rocked against her. She cupped his face and dragged him down for a kiss that nearly split his lips. "No teasing," she whispered to him. "I already said yes."

Laughing, Draco dipped to nuzzle beneath her ear. "So you did. And you'll be saying it a lot more in a few minutes." Even as she thumped him on the shoulder, he was reaching between them to wrap his fingers around his length. He guided himself into her, groaning as he fit fully inside. He took a moment to breathe, to adjust once again to the intense heat of her body, then he pushed up onto his hands and he moved. Hermione clutched at him, gripping his shoulders, his elbows, his hips, urging him faster and demanding more. Draco gave her everything he had, his muscles screaming as he drove into her. When she came with a tremble, her chest flushed dark in the candlelight and her mouth open in a silent gasp, he watched her. He whispered her name and made his own demands for more, groaning with her as she squeezed around his cock.

She collapsed, head lolling to one side. Draco dropped with her and twined his fingers in hers. He shoved their joined hands beneath her hair, lowered his head to her shoulder, and thrust hard. Hermione was as open for him as ever, warm and welcoming, and he didn't try to hold himself back. He couldn't focus on anything except the way she felt under him. His muscles quivered and his temperature flared, forcing a gasp from him. Hermione tipped her head against his and murmured to him, calling him to join her. "Yes," she said. "For me."

Draco groaned. He tensed, every muscle going stiff, as release washed over him. He clung to Hermione, grunting into her skin with each roiling spasm. The last drew a long and rattling groan from him, leaving him stretched atop her, breath stolen and body weak. Hermione stroked his back, her fingers trailing along his spine, and hummed softly as he struggled to gain control over his body.

When he could move again, he rolled to her side, tugging her with him into an exhausted embrace. "Special night," he muttered.

Hermione laughed low in her throat. "Very special. Damn near perfect, even with clouds.... Oh. _Oh_ , Draco." She nudged his head and pointed up through the open ironwork of the gazebo. "Look."

He turned his head with her to peer up at the sky, then smiled and wrapped both arms around her. "Perfect." 

They looked up and saw a star.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a coda to a previous fic, "Find Your Way Back". I stole a Jefferson Starship song title for that fic and I've done it again. Can't help myself sometimes. 
> 
> My prompt was 'noel', and I ... wandered pretty far off because that's what I do. But the last line of the fic is the first line of the second verse of the song "The First Noel", so there we go. I had that line in mind from the moment I got this prompt. Several readers have asked me to revisit the village of Faith-In-Hart and the people there, and this seemed like a perfect opportunity. Plus, a guaranteed happy ending! My kind of Christmas present.


End file.
